When Gratitude Feels Heavy: Navigating Grief at Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is supposed to be the season of gratitude. (*gag*) The big family meal, the clinking of glasses, the forced smiles in matching sweaters. But when you’re grieving, all that thankfulness talk can hit like grandma’s “special juice”. Gratitude feels like a language you used to speak fluently, but now sounds like drunk uncles.  (Alright Nikki enough with the booze)

Grief during the holidays is hard when you’re missing someone as well as missing who you were when they were still here. It’s being in those rooms where their laugh used to echo, or setting one less plate at the table. It’s trying to be present in a season that constantly drags you back into the past.

If you’re sitting in that space this year, I see you.  And you’re ok.

The Myth of “Should”

There’s a cruel little word that shows up this time of year: should.
I should feel grateful.
I should be stronger by now.
I should go to the family dinner.

But “should” is just shame dressed up in a holiday sweater. It assumes there’s a right way to grieve, and guess what?  THERE ISN’T!. You don’t have to be thankful for the pain, or find meaning in your loss before dessert is served. Gratitude and grief can coexist, but they don’t arrive on schedule.

So if your gratitude list this year looks like “I got out of bed” and “Hey, coffee exists!” That's cool. Gratitude doesn’t have to be profound to be real.

The Empty Chair

Every grieving person knows the chair. The one that used to belong to them.  The parent, partner, sibling, child, friend. It’s not just furniture. It’s a visual reminder of what’s missing.

Some families avoid it. Some set a place in their honor. Some can’t even sit down to the table without tears. There’s no right answer here, but there’s something powerful about acknowledging the empty chair instead of pretending it’s not there.

Maybe you light a candle. Maybe you share a memory. Maybe you pour their favorite drink and raise a quiet toast. The point isn’t to make it easier, because it isn’t easy, you guys.  The point is to make space for what’s true.

Grief doesn’t ruin the holidays. Denying it does.

Permission to Redefine Tradition

Holidays run on autopilot. We repeat rituals year after year.  (Lord knows we have to do everything the same or certain family members get upset)  The same recipes, the same order of events, the same jokes about that year my grandma forgot to turn the oven on. But after a loss, the familiar can feel unbearable. The old traditions might not fit your new reality.

I give you permission to rewrite the script.
Order takeout instead of cooking. “WHAT?  Nikki, I could NEVER!!’  Yes.  You can.  I ate stuffing out of a plastic bag in a hotel in Chattanooga, you can get a pizza.

Skip the big gathering and watch movies in pajamas. Volunteer somewhere. Create a small ritual that honors the person you’re missing.  

Grief is a kind of love story, and love changes us. It’s okay for your holidays to change, too.

Gratitude Reimagined

It’s easy to confuse gratitude with forced positivity. But real gratitude isn’t about pretending everything’s fine and you’re thankful for it. It’s about noticing the tiny, stubborn sparks of life that still show up.  Even when things are crappy.

Maybe it’s the way the air smells like pine.
Maybe it’s a memory that makes you laugh.
Maybe it’s realizing that, somehow, you’re still here.

You don’t have to be grateful for the loss, but you might find gratitude within the loss. For the love that still lingers, the lessons you didn’t ask for but now carry, the connection that refuses to die just because someone did.

A Quiet Kind of Thanks

This Thanksgiving, it’s okay to pass on the big speeches and just whisper your thanks in private. It might sound something like this:

“Thank you for the time we had.”
“Thank you for the people who get it.”
“Thank you for another breath, even when it hurts.”

Grief changes how we see gratitude, but that’s not a loss; it’s a transformation. Because the kind of gratitude that survives grief? That’s the kind that sticks around for the rest of your life.

So if your heart feels heavy this Thanksgiving, remember: You don’t have to perform gratitude. You can simply be. And that, in itself, is enough.  And there’s always grandmas “special juice”.